


First Gain the Victory

by SailAweigh



Series: Sail, Ahoy! [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Community: space_wrapped, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailAweigh/pseuds/SailAweigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim will never regret taking the advice of his hero, Admiral Lord Nelson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Current mood:**

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chipper  
  
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**Entry tags:**

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[fic](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [kirk/mccoy](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/kirk%2Fmccoy), [space_wrapped](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/space_wrapped), [star trek 2009](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/star%20trek%202009)  
  
  
**Title:** First Gain the Victory  
 **Author:** [](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/profile)[**sail_aweigh**](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warnings:** prostitution, drinking and hanky-panky, Age of Sail AU  
 **Word count:** ~17,300  
 **Summary:** Jim will never regret taking the advice of his hero, Admiral Lord Nelson.  
 **A/N:** This (not so little) fic is a gift for the Kirk/McCoy advent community, [](http://community.livejournal.com/space_wrapped/profile)[**space_wrapped**](http://community.livejournal.com/space_wrapped/). It would not have been completed, or turned out even more delightful than I hoped, without the help and encouragement of my lovely beta, [](http://lindmere.livejournal.com/profile)[**lindmere**](http://lindmere.livejournal.com/). Thank you so much, hon, you rock my world.

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**Fic: First Gain the Victory, Kirk/McCoy, R (1/2)**   
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____spacer____](http://pics.livejournal.com/sail_aweigh/pic/0004a9pw/)  
  
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****

Apothecary by[](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/profile)[ **scatter_muse**](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/)  
  
  
  
  
"Give it back!"

First Lieutenant Jim Kirk struggled between two beefy Marines, hands clenched into fists at his side as the Admiral's aide, Commander Spock, opened up the plain wooden case to verify its content.

"Mr. Kirk, I am told this is the only remaining sextant on board this ship. Needs of the service dictate that you hand over this instrument immediately for the continuing wellbeing of this vessel and its crew. You are fortunate that all I am doing is confiscating this and not having you hung from the yardarm for mutiny as you deserve. "

Kirk looked around the quarterdeck at the faces of the other officers, some sympathetic, others turned away or down in shame or anger. He could see Dr. McCoy's fierce frown and the glare he gave the upright commander could have pierced right through to the man's heart if there had been steel in it.

"It wasn't mutiny! I was pressing the fight against the Narada; we were to windward, it would have been folly to break off the engagement when we had a clear hand at victory. _Narada_ 's 104 guns would have been a prodigious prize to take back to the Crown and one less ship for the French to persecute us with! I was following Pike's orders."

"That is inconsequential; Captain Pike was disabled by a musket ball to his shoulder and unaware of the events transpiring. Clearly, Admiral Calder signaled the order to regroup at 2025 last night, the 22nd July 1805, and you should have fallen in line with the rest of the squadron. Instead, you pressed the attack and Enterprise lost two good able-bodied seamen, whilst another 16 are in the care of Dr. McCoy. At the least you are guilty of insubordination and negligence, Mr. Kirk. You will be put ashore at Portsmouth, forfeit all pay and have your name stricken from the roster of eligible officers in the Royal Navy. Guards, take him down to the brig."

"I was following Captain Pike's orders exactly!" shouted Jim. "We'd already knocked down his foremast with one of our broadsides. We were close enough to get grappling hooks over his rail. It was all but over." Jim pulled at his arms futilely.

Dr. McCoy's gruff voice interjected in defense of his friend. "Commander, most of those injuries were incurred before Captain Pike was rendered insensible by his own injury; you can't blame Mr. Kirk for those."

"Mr. Kirk, you will cease this noisome harangue. The facts speak for themselves. You were in charge when the order to fall back was signaled and you failed to obey the orders of the fleet admiral, who supersedes Captain Pike in all things fleet related. Mr. Kirk must be punished. That is all. Dr. McCoy, I suggest you leave off your argumentation unless you want similar action to be brought against you. I am willing to be lenient in this matter because _Enterprise_ is in dire need of this sextant. It is a fair trade and you should consider yourself fortunate I am willing to consider it." Jim directed the slightest shake of his head towards Bones to hold his ire; there was no need for both of them to incur the commander's wrath and end up in the soup.

Commander Spock handed the box containing Jim's sextant to Second Lieutenant Sulu and turned back toward the rail where the sideboys waited to lower him down in the basket to his dory for the trip back to Prince of Wales. The last they saw of the commander was his cocked hat, which remained absolutely level despite the herky-jerky motion of the basket being lowered towards the water. The man's jawline could have been used as a carpenter's level, he was so upright and stiff-necked, thought Kirk.

Sulu looked at Kirk with compassion. "I'll take good care of this for you, Mr. Kirk. I know how long it has been in your family. Perhaps Captain Pike will be able to return it to you once he's recovered from his injuries. I won't let it out of my sight."

Kirk turned his head over his shoulder as he was hustled down the ladder into the hold. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. You have my complete trust in its safety; I couldn't ask for a better caretaker." That was the last he saw of his sextant and Bones until the following week, when _Enterprise_ pulled into dock for repairs and replenishment.

  


+++++++++

"Bones, you don't have to do this." Jim placed his hand on the doctor's arm to halt him as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"Jim, I won't need any of the prize money until my commission is satisfied. And who knows how long that will be with Napoleon rampaging through Europe and wanting to invade England? _Enterprise_ could be deployed for five years or more. Let me at least get you set up in lodgings until you find work. We already know that Spock bastard has put it about the docks and shipyards that you are anathema; no one will hire you for even menial dock work at this rate." McCoy finished reaching into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. Jim dropped his hand reluctantly and gave a hitch to the duffel bag on his shoulder.

"I could go back to my mother and Francis. They can always use more help caring for the stud." Jim glanced away, uneasy at the thought of his stepfather 's heavy hand and barbed tongue.

Bones' step slowed and he paused his counting out of bills from the wallet. "I thought your brother, George, was helping with that? Did Francis drive him off, too?"

"George inherited a smallholding in Devonshire from our uncle Samuel about a year ago. He's decided to manage his own lands rather than someone else's. Probably not for much income; the farm lands haven't been properly managed for years and have yet to produce much, but definitely better working conditions." Jim smiled at the thought of his brother and his wife being able to call their lives their own without the disapproval and condescension of their stepfather. "I'm sure Francis would enjoy having me to order around again. I just don't know if I can hold my tongue around him after having been my own man for close to 12 years now. I've gotten in the habit of giving orders, not taking them."

"You were supposed to take orders, but you didn't; that's why we're standing here right now, you dunderhead." Bones came to a stop and gave Kirk an exasperated look. "If you can't change that, you might not want to consider throwing yourself on the generosity of your mother and Francis. Stop here; this is the apothecary I was looking for. I'm still trying to find something that will reduce the swelling in Captain Pike's right hand." McCoy returned his wallet to its pocket and opened the shop door with a jingle.

"Well, I don't know anything other than seafaring and horses, Bones. I don't have a lot of options here, except that Scotty gave me the name of a friend who does carpentry. I can handle a saw and a planer all right. But that position is up in Glasgow; I don't want to be away from Portsmouth. We'll never see each other even when you get shore leave. You'll be back afloat by the time I even find out you've gotten leave and can purchase a ticket for a coach to come down here." Jim dropped his duffel bag on the shop floor and ran a hand over the back of his neck and through his queue, giving Bones an unhappy look. "I don't know what to do without you, Bones. You've been there every day for me since I was 16." He made an aborted attempt to touch the other man's shoulder, but dropped his hand and turned away, kicking the duffel bag.

McCoy moved to peruse the stoppered jars with their powders that lined the shelves. He opened one and took a pinch out, sniffed it and touched it to his tongue. With a nod of satisfaction, he took it to the counter. "I want a half weight of this, please." Once his purchase had been measured, placed in an envelope and sealed, he turned back to Kirk.

"Jim…pup," he placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him so he could look him in the eye. "Just take the money. Get lodgings. You're more resourceful than you know or the Narada wouldn't have been running like a fox from a pack of hounds that have his scent. I have faith in you. Maybe Pike will be able to talk the Admiralty around, get your punishment rescinded."

"Pike's going to be busy overseeing the refitting; he won't have time to spend waiting on the convenience of those prattlers at the Admiralty. Besides which, you still have him consigned to bed rest. I just want to be back at sea, Bones, where I have some small chance of being part of a crew that brings _Narada_ to bear. I want Nero to pay for sinking Kelvin along with my father. We weren't at war, when he did that. He needs to be brought to justice." Jim rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, taking a deep breath to forestall tears coming to the forefront in public.

McCoy took Jim's hand and pressed a wad of bills into it. "Take this. We'll get you lodgings close to the docks. Maybe you can find work in a hostelry. You can do this, Jim, I know you can."

Jim looked into McCoy's eyes and gave a watery smile. "You're too good to me, old man. Also, you're right. I made myself the best damn navigator and first officer of _Enterprise_ in fewer than three years; I can do anything I set my mind to. Let's go find lodgings and a bottle of good claret for dinner. Need to send you off in style. And we've had no time for a good chaffer in forever, there being so little time since Finisterre with all the patching required for Enterprise to even make it back to port." He tucked the money into the top of his duffel bag, picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. A tip of the head towards the street outside the shop had McCoy falling in step with him as they left the apothecary's to look for accommodations.

"Blast it, Jim, you know we'll be portside for a while with repairs. I'll be able to see you nearly every day. Save the sending off until we're ready to be under sail again. You can't be too profligate with that money." McCoy threw an exasperated look at the other man.

"Bones! I'm hurt that you don't consider yourself worthy of everything I'm willing to give you. My food, my wine, my…" Kirk slapped him on the back with a lowered head and a wink.

"My purse," Bones said dryly. He took his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Well, we've shared a lot in the nine years I've known you, what's all my worldly goods in compare? Let's go, you mooncalf, it's past six of the clock and I'm damned hungry."

  


+++++++++

  
Jim cursed as he gathered his legs under him and stood up in the alleyway. That really hadn't gone very well at all. Two days of using incredibly tiny needles compared to the larger ones used to sew the canvas sails aboard _Enterprise_ had left his fingers feeling like pincushions, raw and sore along the tips. Stitching the tiny seams in gloves was a much more exacting task than he was familiar with and the poor lighting in the shop gave him a headache from eyestrain. Not that he minded; it was honest labor. Only he hadn't counted on having to deal with customers on a personal level. Young ladies should not be allowed to wear such low-cut and revealing gowns. How was he supposed to concentrate on his task when two such fine specimens of feminine pulchritude were presented to him in such close proximity? It was not as if he were able to touch anything other than the young lady's hands whilst he fitted her for the lambskin gloves she fancied. Perhaps, though, his fingers lingered a little too long on her wrist and he had a hard time looking at what he was doing instead of the way her breasts were so sweetly rounded above the ruching of her bodice. Hells bells, but he hadn't been that close to a female, so sweet smelling, in any number of years. And while he had the physical outlets he wanted aboard ship, there was still something about the female form that he missed occasionally. He meant nothing by it, other than sincere appreciation; he wouldn't have pressed his attentions any farther than she would allow. However, it appeared that her brother, or whoever the man mountain attending her was, disagreed with Jim's demeanor during her fitting and he'd been thrown out of the back of the shop on his backside, his coat thrown after him and, he was told, would receive no pay for the week spent toiling in the dimly lit backroom of the glovemaker's shop.

Bones would be glad to know he would be able to make fine use of the prize money he'd given him. In fact, he'd use it to go get a pint or two of ale at the pub on the corner right that instant. Perhaps that pretty bar maid would sit on his lap for a little while to help soothe his aches and pains--all of them. With that thought, he dusted off his seat, donned his jacket and with a couple bounces to shake everything back in place, practically skipped down the alley in search of something to wet his whistle and someone to bring a little joy back to his day.

  


+++++++++

  
"Blast it, Jim, what the bloody hell happened this time?" Bones's scrutiny took in the ripped shoulder of the jacket and the bruises on Jim's face.

"It's nothing, Bones. Just a misunderstanding." Jim picked at the blood under his fingernails, refusing to look at his friend.

"And who was this misunderstanding with this time? Another innkeeper whose daughter happened to be the bar maid you pulled onto your lap? Or an enraged uncle who felt you got too familiar with his niece while you were wrapping up her books?" Bones walked over to the washstand, where he dipped a cloth into the basin of water standing on it. Striding back over to the bed, he sat down next to Jim and started cleaning the dried blood off his face.

Jim slapped Bones' hands away from his face and took the cloth from him. "I'm not an infant. I can take care of myself." He finished scrubbing over his neck and under his collar. After juggling the cloth unthinkingly in his hands for a few more seconds, he threw it down on the washstand and ducked his hands into the basin, scrubbing them listlessly.

"Bones…you know I left the stud because of my stepfather, right? That he had a heavy hand and a wicked sharp tongue that ate away at my composure? I could tolerate what he did to me, but I could not condone his treatment of the horses. I would add extra oats to their daily allotment and when he was wont to beat them for imagined imperfections. I would hang on his arm so he couldn't lift the whip. I was just another stud to be schooled, and poorly at that. I just can't bear to watch anyone mistreat horses since. And you know the latest position I hired on to was with the hostler two lanes over." He stood at the washstand, his head hanging down in defeat, hands gripping its sides.

"It was like Francis all over again, wasn't it, young'un?" Bones came up behind Jim and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Did he give you any pay at all? You were there an entire week and I'm sure he didn't have you just polishing the bits and bridles all day."

Jim placed his hands over Bones's and leaned back into him. "No pay again. It's not like there's anyone I can complain to and many would feel I'd been insubordinate and undeserving of recompense. It's not fair, but it's the way it is. I have to accept that."

"At least there were no members of the gentler sex involved this time."

"Well, only inasmuch as it was the sweetest little filly that Cartwright was taking his crop to and that was just that much worse to watch. I couldn't keep my tongue still after that and wrestling the crop out of his hand was probably a bit too far beyond the pale; she is his horse after all." Jim turned in the circle of Bones's arms, looping his over the other man's shoulders and around his neck. "Let's go to bed, Bones. I can think of plenty of things to do to take my mind off this latest failure. I'll go down to the fish market tomorrow. Mayhap I can obtain a position with one of the mongers."

Bones started unbuttoning Jim's shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. "With Admiral Calder and that cold-blooded hobgoblin Spock sailing for Spain Thursday last, perhaps some of the shipyards will be more willing to hire you on, at least short term. And Pike's still in port with _Enterprise_. I haven't cleared him for duty yet, although he's no longer confined to bed rest. By good fortune, the Admiralty respects him too much to give _Enterprise_ to someone else in the meantime. I heard tell that Admiral Calder was pressing for the Admiralty to transfer _Enterprise_ to Spock, but it will be a cold day in hell when I take ship with that emotionless bogle, by gad. No, he's to accompany _Prince of Wales_ again. Have no fear, though, I'll give good odds that Pike's word will stand with more weight than Spock's. People respect Pike; they fear Spock."

"That's something to consider, Bones, but later. It's not something you can fix right this instant. Right now, I just want to feel a bed under me that isn't moving. Look at you, you've still got your boots on, man!" With a laugh, Jim pushed Bones down on the bed and proceeded to strip him of his clothes, starting with the aforementioned boots.

"Do you remember the aftermath of the Battle of the Nile? You made me give up my berth for that midshipman with the broken collar bone, the dispensary was so overrun with wounded. That was the first time that we shared yours. I slept better that night than I had since my brother George went off to Eton and I had the room to myself. I miss being able to do that whenever I want. I miss your hands petting me to sleep. Let me sleep this latest debacle away and we can talk about fixing it in the morning." He pulled the covers back and slid under them, pulling McCoy down into the bed with him.

  


+++++++++

  
McCoy stared at Captain Pike with a look of expectation, right eyebrow raised eye in a silent query. "Captain, I'm not sure what you needed to see me for. I've released you back to full duty despite the fact you really shouldn't be on your feet more than four hours a day. You need to replace those two midshipmen we lost at Finisterre. Rand doesn't have the meat on his bones yet to be able to help you up and down as much as you insist on even whilst here in port. I keep recommending increased rations for that young man, but he just doesn't seem to have any strength in his arms. That's a puzzle I'd like to have more time to work on." The doctor's mobile brows drew together in bafflement. "But, I digress. What purpose have you with me at this time? I was just about to leave for dinner." Bones pulled out his pocket watch and fussed with it a little, opening and closing the lid before he put it back in his pocket, a gentle hint that his time was at a premium. He hoped Jim would be waiting at his lodgings. The latest position with another of Scotty's friends--this time a cooper who provided barrels for a Scotch distillery back in Scotty's home county--seemed to be something that just might prevent Jim from landing himself in hot water: no young ladies employed by them, no young ladies as clients, and the wood was particularly uncomplaining about treatment by its shapers.

"I wanted to let you know that Admiral Lord Nelson's fleet is going to be sailing on the 15th September, doctor. We'll be joining the van on the 18th--still four days away. I thought you could use the time to ensure Mr. Kirk was settled somewhere within his means, if he has any." He held up his hand when McCoy appeared ready to deny that he had any involvement in Jim's current situation. "Still your protests, McCoy. I know you don't want it bruited about, but I am aware just how much you care for that young man and how he relies on you. It's not something that we talk about in polite circles and I trust you to be circumspect, but a connection that deep is nothing to be ashamed of. It's naught but another sign of what a grand heart you have in you. I wanted to let you know I've made arrangements for the purser to pay out another 10 percent of your prize money for you. See if you can convince young Kirk to manage his pursestrings a little better from here on out."

"Captain Pike, sir, that is most kind of you," Bones said around the lump in his throat. "It's completely understandable why Jim wanted to stay with you on _Enterprise_ rather than take post on a fifth rater of his own, even if it did mean turning down a promotion. You take almost too much good care of us."

The captain settled back in his chair with a look of satisfaction. "It goes both way, Dr. McCoy. There are duties and obligations that go with the privilege of rank. It behooves the honourable man to remember that and act on it. You have all rewarded me well in service; it is worth every effort. Now, go find your young man, and make a few memories before we sail again."

McCoy took a couple of steps toward the cabin door, then hesitated and turned back to Pike. "Captain, if you don't mind my asking--and you've been so good to us I hate to bring an imposition on you--but is Jim ever going to get his sextant back?"

"His sextant? What's that about his sextant?" Pike looked at McCoy in puzzlement. He raised his hand and beckoned McCoy back over.

McCoy went on willingly. "Did you not know, sir? Commander Spock confiscated Jim's sextant before he confined him to the brig after Finisterre, claiming needs of the service. Mr. Sulu has had custody of it since. But I thought since _Enterprise_ had been in port now for well more than a month that you would have found time to replace the one that went overboard when Midshipman Riley tripped Ensign Chekov. Did you forget that the ship's sextant needed to be replaced?"

Pike clenched his fist and struck the arm of his chair. "Blast that Spock, he omitted that from the after-action report. I believe he would do anything to present young Mr. Kirk in as unfavourable a light as possible. Rules and regulations are all well and good when under controlled conditions of exercises and in the planning stages, but once battle is at hand it relies on improvisation, and Kirk is a master at that. I keep telling the Admiralty that, but there is a large faction that are looking to promote Ambassador Stark into position in the House of Lords to run for prime minister. They will hear no naysaying of Spock in order to curry favour there."

The captain sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "And, yes, I'd forgotten all about that fracas with Riley and Chekov. Has Riley admitted that the Russians invented the sonnet yet, or is he still insisting it was the Irish? Don't answer that; I don't really think I want to know."

Pike looked back up at McCoy. "I will have the purser send Mr. Sulu out to see if a suitable replacement can be found before we sail Wednesday. I am sorry for this, doctor. Scuttlebutt has failed to keep me as well informed over the past six weeks than I am accustomed." He gave McCoy a rueful grin.

McCoy looked away. "I believe that may be partly my fault. I told the crew you were not to be disturbed with personal brangles and petty disturbances; your recovery necessitated calm and relaxation. It's a sign of how much they revere you that you were actually allowed such for so long. And I thank you, captain, for being so understanding about Jim's sextant. It's the last remaining possession of his father's that he has. To strip him of that is to take his very foundation away."

Pike waved a hand at McCoy, dismissing his thanks. "Think nothing of it, McCoy. That young man has been hard done by and anything I can do to redress the balance is no less than what he deserves. Now, you get; I'm sure Kirk will be waiting impatiently for you. It's well past the dinner hour."

"Jim could use to learn a little patience and delayed gratification, sir. Leaping without looking is usually what gets him in trouble, as we both well know." McCoy rolled his eyes, but smiled in fond exasperation. "I will leave you to your dinner, sir. Have a pleasant evening." With that, McCoy gave a little bow, turned and left the room.

  


+++++++++

  
Losing all interest in the apple that he had been crunching into, Jim stared at the newspaper dated the 14th September, 1805--not in disbelief, because he believed every word of it, but in a controlled rage so severe he felt his teeth were about to break right off his jaw. It appeared that _Narada_ had once more struck against a peaceful British sailing vessel. This time it was _Vulcan's Forge_ , the personal yacht of Ambassador Stark and his wife, the Lady Amanda. Lady Amanda had gone down with their yacht in the Channel, whilst Ambassador Stark was at a meeting with some other ambassadors at Carlton House. Jim wanted to scream in rage and the urge to find someone or something to beat his fists against in the place of the black-hearted master of _Narada_ was nigh unendurable. Nero must be made to pay!

There had to be something he could do to help prosecute the war against Napoleon and his marauding, dishonourable fleet of criminals. He could change his name; he could shave his head like a common seaman fresh pressed from the streets of Portsmouth. No one would recognize the dapper golden-queued Kirk in a street urchin in slops and straw hat, instead of the coat heavy with gold braid and the cocked hat he normally sported aboard ship. But he'd need help getting the necessary accoutrements.

Folding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm, he turned towards the Cock and Balls, where he knew Gaille would be plying her trade in the common room of the inn. Her connections among the seedy underside of Portsmouth could be used to acquire what he needed. He ran his hand down the back of his head and the golden braid held back with a velvet ribbon that lay above his collar. He'd been growing this for so long and had worn it with pride since he made first officer, he couldn't imagine not having it for Bones to run his fingers through when he let it down in bed. Vanity, he thought ruefully, thy name is Jim Kirk. Small price to pay if it meant he could get aboard a ship sailing with Admiral Lord Nelson before the fleet was redeployed, which was going to be soon according the rumors making the rounds of the docks, shipyards and alehouses along the waterfront. Resolved, he set his chin and feet for a heading that would ultimately take him on collision course with _Narada_.

  


+++++++++

McCoy closed the pocket watch once more and slouched even deeper in the chair in Jim's lodgings. After 10 of the evening and Jim still wasn't back to his room. He vacillated over whether he should just prepare for bed or go out to look for him, but the latter activity presupposed finding Jim would leave him with his temper intact and his heart completely whole and unpierced, things that were rarely givens around Jim. It was his own damn fault for falling so completely in love with the impetuous, libidinous ass. In the nine years that he'd known Kirk, they'd been lovers for seven, since the Battle of the Nile at Aboukir Bay. In that time, McCoy had learned that Jim needed attention like an orchid needed the daily care of a trained botanist to grow in the greenhouses of the cold, northern climes. The man had such an excess of energy that once something got him worked up, he didn't stop until an end was achieved. The means could take many an outlet: fighting, riding and, his preferred means, a superb game of cocksmanship. On board ship Jim was most often taken up with his duties to keep that energy harnessed, but in those rare moments of calm it was on him to garner Jim's sole attention. With privacy so little in supply, Jim was always willing to show his gratitude whenever Bones was able to find time or space for a little personal attention. From this, he knew Jim needed him, but he didn't think that Jim loved him.

Bah. He had descended into the realm of maudlin maunderings when he should be getting a good night's rest. He had four days to make sure the dispensary aboard ship was fully restocked with all the drugs and instruments he'd need when next they sailed. Jim would turn up again, his personal bad penny to keep tripping over. As long as he showed in time for McCoy to pass the news of his departure along, he would make sure Jim was settled in for the next while. Later, he could make arrangements for more funds to be made available in case Jim managed to get canned from the current position, most probably a sure thing in his estimation.

With that thought, McCoy stripped out of his uniform, performed his nightly ablutions at the washstand and snuffed the lamp before sliding into the cold, empty bed, the plans and anxieties running through his mind making it difficult to fall into sleep.

A fumbling at the door with the sound of a body thudding into the wall of his chamber woke him from the light sleep he'd eventually fallen into. He listened for a few moments, attempting to discern if this was a cracksman attempting a burglary of a room he thought empty or a drunk Jim returning. It was with the sound of a soft voice encouraging someone unseen, presumably Jim, that spurred him into action.

"Stand right there, laddie, I cannae get the lock to turn if ye keep pawing at me like that. Haven't ye had enow 'o that yet? Great horned beast that ye be."

McCoy reached the door about the same time the lock finally clicked over and he all but yanked the door out of the hands of the young woman in an extremely low-cut gown facing him in the hallway, Jim's arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes blinking slowly. A silly grin lit up his face and when he opened his mouth to cry "Bones!" the distinctive fumes of gin billowed into McCoy's face.

"Get in here, you damn fool," McCoy growled. "You, too, whoever you are." He walked over to the night stand and struck the flint to light the lamp. After adjusting the wick, he turned and saw the young woman struggling to get a shoulder under Kirk's armpit, Jim being particularly unhelpful as he appeared to have passed out leaning against her. With a put-upon sigh, McCoy strode back and, shouldering her aside, got one of Jim's arms over his shoulder, then turned and slung him on the bed.

Once Kirk was lying on the bed, McCoy noticed the alteration to his looks. He was expecting possible bruises and maybe a black eye, if Jim had been on a spree, but what he saw caught him totally by surprise. The man lying on the bed had short, dark brown hair under his cap. It was definitely Jim: the full, pink lips and the distinctively arched eyebrows were good enough clues without even being able to see the blue eyes that shimmered somewhere between the blue of the sea and the sky where it met at the horizon, but the long golden queue was gone.

"What have you been up to, you misbegotten, pox-riddled japehead?" he muttered under his breath, not expecting Jim to answer, before he started stripping the man's clothes off. "And who are you, young lady?" he directed at the woman that brought Jim back to the lodgings.

Smoothing her dress down, she shook her wildly tumbled red curls back over her shoulders. "Och, I be Gaille. I work down 't Cock and Balls. I thought it better to accompany yon cock-o-the-walk back to his lodgings; 'twere a number o' unsavoury types watching him tip them back. Thought he would tumble right under the table and they would roll him right in front 'o me. I like Jimmy-me-lad much too well to allow that to happen."

"Well, I thank you kindly for your attentions to his wellbeing, Miss Gaille, but, do you happen to know why his hair is in such a state?" McCoy had stripped Jim of everything bar his drawers, supposing most correctly that it wasn't anything the young woman hadn't seen previously under more erotically charged circumstances. Pulling the covers up over Jim's bare chest, McCoy sat down on the edge of the bed.

"He dinna really speak o' what spurred the request, but he carried this day's newspaper with him and kept looking at it frequently. It seemed to make him quite angry. The best I could make out was that there was someone that he was going to make pay for some ill done, I ken not who or what." She turned towards the door, but before she left spoke over her shoulder, "Tell the clueless lump the clothes he charged will be ready on the morrow, after 3 o' the clock."

"What clothes?"

"A set of blue slops. He didn't know which ship, yet, so he said just a set of plain blue would do."

Putting that disturbing thought to the side, McCoy rose and followed Gaille out into the hallway. "Thank you for bringing him here. Is there anything I can do to recompense you?"

"Och, Doctor, Jim is a friend, you don't charge friends for doing what anyone would do. But, you take care of him, now. He's set to do something foolish, even if I ken not what it is. He's told me about you, so I know he's in good hands." She picked up his right hand and stroked the palm with her index and middle finger. "Very good hands," came out in a breathy croon. She let go of his hand and reached up to pat the startled look off his cheek. "He's a bit of a daft sod, doctor. Give him time to wake up to his own heart's needs. He's not stupid, just daft." With a little trill of laughter, she scurried down the hallway to the stairs and out into the street.

McCoy stood there for a mere moment longer before he turned and went back into the room. There would be no answers to the pressing questions in his mind until Jim woke up, and that wouldn't be anywhere near soon enough to give him ease of mind. Snuffing the lamp for the second time that night, he moved back over to the bed and stood there looking down at where his slumbering friend lay, until with a shake of the head he, too, slid under the covers and hoped for the peace of sleep to take him soon. Before he fell asleep, he made a note to find out what was in that day's newspaper that had upset Jim so much.

  


+++++++++

McCoy stared at the newspaper he'd found tucked into a pocket of Jim's coat when he'd hung it up that morning and calculated that he had a pretty good idea of what had sent Jim on the previous night's tear through the taproom at the Cock and Balls. The death of Lady Amanda at the hands _Narada_ of was right there under the fold on yesterday's front page. How Nero and his ship kept slipping past the blockades at Brest and Cadiz was a huge subject of speculation and the public had been clamouring for someone or something to finally bring him to ground. And from what he had learned the previous night, he was fairly certain he had a damn good idea of which tomfool was up to the challenge, and it wasn't anything that would lead to his peace of mind or to Jim keeping his plague-ridden ass in one piece

He walked over to the bed and whacked Jim on the leg. "Wake up! Get your drunk arse out of bed and get dressed. We need to have a little talk before you leave for work."

Jim gave a groan and shifted under the covers only a little. "Bones, cease your caterwauling. I need sleep."

"No, you don't. You need to get up and explain to me what the devil you think you're up to with ordering a set of slops. And your hair, good Christ, you look a regular Jack Tar. And make it quick, you've less than an hour before you need to be by Master April's establishment. You can't afford to lose another position at this point in time." Bones pulled the covers back and started prodding the other man in the ribs.

Jim slapped at his hands. "Lay off. I gave notice at April's, yesterday. I've nowhere to be until Gaille says my slops are ready. And what do you mean by 'at this point in time'?"

"You did what? Jim, this is no time to be funning with me and you best well be funning! My funds are nearly gone and _Enterprise_ is leaving with the tide on the 18th. Pike forwarded me another 10 percent of the prize money, but I received communication from that she-devil, Jocelyn. She's demanded an exorbitant sum from me, since she found out I was with funds again. You know the cent-percenters will only pay 60 percent on the draft. That leaves me with nothing to put aside for you as the very last of my funds went to purchasing new uniforms. Yes, you can laugh, the Admiralty has finally forced ship's surgeons into a uniform." McCoy sat down slowly in the chair next to the washstand and dropped his head into his hands, his thoughts running in circles calculating sums that totaled up to nothing. A feeling of desperation settled heavy onto his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed trying not to look at the disheveled figure that he had spent so much time nurturing and loving to seemingly no effect. He'd given all of himself, mentally, emotionally, physically and financially. He felt like an orange that had been squeezed to its very last pip and only a dry husk of peel was retained, useless and hollow.

Jim had sat up during this diatribe and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Slow down, you're losing me."

"No, Jim, not losing, you've lost me. I have no money to set aside for your subsistence. You've thrown away every chance you have for success with your headstrong willfulness and disregard for material gain and self-preservation. After everything I've tried to do for you--"

"None of which I ever asked you to! What does it matter to you, what I do?" Jim shouted. "I reached my majority years ago and I've quite successfully navigated ships across half the globe, commanded men in the heat of battle and brought home as much prize money as Sultan Tipoo." Standing up, he strode over to where his clothes lay folded. Shaking them out violently, he jammed first one leg into his trousers and then the other, while McCoy continued on his rant.

"And where's that money, now? Spent on grog and women, useless trifles to bribe your way under the skirts of fancy women, bets on horses, buying the entire crew uniforms made from silk nankeen and the finest lawn one could find on Savile Row? Frivolous, profligate, ruinous wastes of funds! I cannot stand by and watch you do this even one more day." He pulled his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. "I have an appointment with Jocelyn's solicitors in three hours; I'll send one of the cabin boys by later to pick up the rest of my effects. The room is hired through the end of the month; you're free to stay here until then. I don't think," his voice seemed to stick on the words, "I want to see you, again."

Jim paused in the buttoning of his shirt and his hands slowly dropped down to his sides. "If it's about the money, I will pay you back. Mother will force Francis to fork over some blunt, if I ask. The stud is only his to manage by virtue of their marriage. I may not have it--"

Bones held up his hand to stop the flow of words tumbling out of Jim's mouth. "Stop. It's not about the money. The money, as with anything I do for you, is simply a way to show you my regard, a regard I hoped you placed some value on and might even return some day. But my regard is like any of the other mad starts you've gotten up to that are easily discarded and twice easily forgotten; it counts for nothing."

Jim grabbed McCoy by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "It does count for something, but this is something I have to do, Bones. This may be my last chance to bring _Narada_ to justice. I must be there for the final fall; even better if I can contribute in some small way to it."

"Be where you will, but I don't want to see it." McCoy shook Kirk's hands loose and after another glance at the watch face, snapped it shut, returning it to his pocket. "Farewell, Jim. You'll land on your feet, I'm sure; you always do. You said it, you're a man full grown. It's time I left you to be that without my interference."

In two quick strides he was to the door and opening it. Before passing, he glanced over his shoulder. "Gaille says your slops will be ready by 3 of the clock, today. I promised her I'd tell you and I don't break my promises." With that, he squared his shoulders and closed the door on his friendship of nine years.

Jim stood in the patch of sunlight from the window and despite the warmth of the direct sun, rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if chilled. The regard that Bones spoke of had kept him warm like a blanket lo, these many years and he wasn't sure if his own body heat was enough to stand him through the days. Still, he was convinced that he couldn't do anything other than what he was setting his course on.

  


+++++++++

Captain Pike swore at the communiqué that had just arrived from the Admiralty. He was set to sail with the tide on the morrow and here he was being told unequivocally to abandon his post to wait upon the pleasure of the courts and Admiral Calder. The admiral was at least two weeks out by fast packet, meaning it would be at least one month before he was even back dockside for his trial. He threw the paper down on his desk in disgust and addressed the midshipman standing in front of him.

"Rand, get me the first officer and then Dr. McCoy. I'll see them one at a time. Have a glass waiting for the doctor while I'm closeted with Lieutenant Pilford."

"Aye-aye, sir," replied the midshipman, exiting the cabin.

A few minutes later a knock sounded on the door and after being told to enter, a lean, ginger-haired first lieutenant strode up to his desk.

"Reporting as ordered, Captain Pike."

"At ease, lieutenant. I have some news I think you will find most exhilarating. I am being transferred to the Admiralty for the time being and you are being promoted to commanding officer of _Enterprise_." Pike drummed his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair. "I have every confidence in your ability to command this vessel and I wish you the best of luck with the upcoming campaign. You have the opportunity to really excel and make your mark under Admiral Lord Nelson's command. I wish you the best of luck." He stood up and, reaching across his desk, took the shocked lieutenant's hand in his to shake it firmly.

"I'll be out of the captain's cabin this evening. You may move your effects in then. I'll make an announcement to the crew at two and four bells of the first dog watch, during their evening meals; that should cover everyone. Don't look so terrified, Pilford, you wouldn't have been placed as my first officer by the Admiralty if you weren't ready for this responsibility. They must have had some idea this was going to happen when they appointed you to _Enterprise_."

The lieutenant dropped Pike's hand slowly and after swallowing a few times he straightened up, firmed his chin and said, "Thank you, sir, I will do my best to be a credit to you and the Admiralty. I will not waste this opportunity. You can count on me."

"Excellent. I'd like to have you with me when I make the announcements to the crew. Please make yourself available in the mess at those times. You are dismissed." Pike sat back down in his chair and waved the lieutenant away.

The lieutenant came to attention, replying to his dismissal in a solemn affirmative before turning and exiting the cabin. A beaming smile could be seen on his face as he scurried down the passageway to his cabin.

"Rand!" bellowed Pike. "Send in McCoy!"

"Aye, sir," came the reply faintly through the door.

"And send the brandy with him," he added as an afterthought

There was no reply, but the door opened to the doctor holding a crystal decanter in one hand and two heavy-bottomed snifters in the other.

"Sit, sit, McCoy. I've got news I wanted to share with you before I informed the rest of the crew. There are things I'll need you to do for me before evening mess." Pike shifted restlessly in his chair before reaching over the desk for the brandy. McCoy placed the snifters on the desk and Pike splashed a good inch-and-a-half into each glass before he proceeded to tell the other man about the Admiralty's decisions and the tasks he would require of McCoy.

  


+++++++++

Jim Kirk prowled through his lodgings restlessly, pacing from one side to the other with ill-disguised impatience. He was at a loss to know how to proceed next, and he was never at a loss! He was known for his ability to take the Forlorn Hope and turn it around on its head into something positive. He ran his hand over the top of his head and scrubbed it through the short, bristly hair.

And did that feel wrong, much like the past six weeks on land had felt wrong; it was all of a piece at this point. He no longer knew what it was going to take to make it feel right again. But, he was trying.

It was his misfortune, though, that despite the changes he'd made in his appearance he was still too easily recognizable as himself to the myriad denizens of the Navy docks and shipyards. He'd tried signing on to every ship left that was due to sail tomorrow with the exception of _Enterprise_ , and he couldn't find a single one that didn't turn him away in fear of reprisal if caught harbouring somebody as notorious as he.

He had come to a rest, standing at the window with this arms braced on the sill, gazing unseeingly out the window, when someone knocked on the door. Three quick steps took him across the room and he had the door open directly.

"Bones!" Jim gaped at the other man.

"Jim. How are you?" McCoy stood there with a plain pine box in his hands, his hands clenching and unclenching on it nervously.

"Come in, come in." Jim grasped him by the arm and led him into the room, shutting the door after him. "I didn't think I'd see you again before Enterprise shipped out. I'm glad--"

McCoy cut Kirk off before he could relate just what he was glad of. "I'm here solely at Captain Pike's request. He asked me to return this to you." He held the box out toward Jim.

"Oh, I didn't expect…thank him for me, then, will you, please?" Kirk took the box from McCoy, stroking his hand over the undecorated lid reverently. "That is so like the captain to make sure this was returned to me. I owe him so much of my gratitude." He looked up just in time to see McCoy turn sharply to the side, his brows tight and his mouth drawn down like he was in pain.

"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked softly.

McCoy drew in a breath and after releasing it explosively reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper bearing a wax seal stamped with an indecipherable signet. "Pike is being relieved of command of _Enterprise_ so he can testify at the court martial of Admiral Calder. He wanted to make sure you got your father's sextant back before you sailed and he asked me to bring it, and this letter, to you if you were still here in lodgings. And now that I've done that, I've discharged my tasks for the day. I must take my leave. I've yet to make a final stop at the apothecary shop and I need to be back to the ship in time for evening mess with the crew."

Jim set the sextant and letter down on the bed and reached out hesitantly, laying his hand on McCoy's forearm as if to hold him there. "Thank you, for everything. I know I don't say it enough, and my actions may run counter to my intentions, but I have always held you high in my regard." He would have continued on in that vein, but he saw McCoy reaching into his pocket with his other hand and knew exactly what he was doing. He smiled in understanding; going for the watch was one of Bones' tells that he was either nervous or very nervous with a possibility of profanity soon to be vociferated. He decided to forestall that possibility.

"I'm sorry. You need to leave, don't you? I won't keep you, except for this." He dropped his hand from McCoy's arm, but moved in just that little bit closer, looked directly into McCoy's eyes, leaned forward just a little, closed his eyes and brushed his lips against the other's briefly. Without waiting to see if Bones responded to him, he stepped back and gave him a brief quirk of the lips, not even a smile, but something soft and yearning. "Be safe, old man."

McCoy looked at him for a moment longer before a choked "You, too," was forced from his throat. He turned and was out the door in two steps, the door clicking shut behind him.

Jim dropped heavily onto the bed, staring off at nothing at all, until the discomfort of the edge of the box that was digging into his thigh finally woke him from his formless musings. After looking at it curiously for a few moments, he picked up the letter lying on top of it and broke the seal to read what Captain Pike had to say. While he had some idea of what it said from Bones' earlier revelation, his expression turned to one of extreme surprise after scanning the first couple of lines. By the time he was finished reading the missive he had a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim will never regret taking the advice of his hero, Admiral Lord Nelson.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Current mood:**

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accomplished  
  
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**Entry tags:**

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[fic](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [kirk/mccoy](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/kirk%2Fmccoy), [space_wrapped](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/space_wrapped), [star trek 2009](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/tag/star%20trek%202009)  
  
  
**Title:** First Gain the Victory  
 **Author:** [](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/profile)[**sail_aweigh**](http://sail-aweigh.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warnings:** prostitution, drinking, and hanky-panky, Age of Sail AU  
 **Word count:** ~17,300  
 **Summary:** Jim will never regret taking the advice of his hero, Admiral Lord Nelson.  
 **A/N:** This (not so little) fic is a gift for the Kirk/McCoy advent community, [](http://community.livejournal.com/space_wrapped/profile)[**space_wrapped**](http://community.livejournal.com/space_wrapped/). It would not have been completed, or turned out even more delightful than I hoped, without the help and encouragement of my lovely beta, [](http://lindmere.livejournal.com/profile)[**lindmere**](http://lindmere.livejournal.com/). Thank you so much, hon, you rock my world.

  


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**Fic: First Gain the Victory, STXI, Kirk/McCoy, R (2/2)**   
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____spacer____](http://pics.livejournal.com/sail_aweigh/pic/0004a9pw/)  
  
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Apothecary by[](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/profile)[ **scatter_muse**](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/)  
  
  
McCoy stood at the rail and watched as the last of the supplies were hauled up the gangplank. His infirmary was fully stocked and the larder had been resupplied with dried beef that he had inspected for mould and the flour for weevils. He'd given the stores a clean bill of health and now all that remained was for the last of the munitions to be lifted into the hold, which was not, by Jupiter, his job and glad of that he was. Too damn dangerous; he preferred the healing side of the fighting equation to doing damage.

Captain Pike had given his farewell address to both evening messes, exhorting everyone to do their best, saying that Lieutenant Pilford would be counting on them to do just that and that he didn't want to hear later that they could have done better and didn't. There were some bawdy jokes and no less than a few tears before the captain bid his last adieu and was piped ashore by the bosun. He'd followed the crew to help man the rails for a farewell salute and now he was left to cogitate on the coming action and what would be expected of him during it.

He'd assigned the new surgeon's mate to measure out prepared doses of some of the more common potions and poultices he knew he'd need over the course of the campaign. The young man was a tad on the willowy side; he'd have problems shifting some of the heavier wounded, if needed, but he had a very precise manner of speaking that McCoy found refreshing and his _bona fides_ from the Royal College were very respectable. Mr. Chapel looked to be a fine addition to the crew.

About to take his leave of the upper decks, his attention was drawn to a cart being drawn along the dock with Mr. Scott in the bed of the cart fussing over an odd oblong-shaped device covered by a tarpaulin. Mr. Chekov was kneeling beside him, gesturing animatedly, and he seemed to be chattering away sixteen to the dozen, yet required no converse from Mr. Scott. McCoy shook his head at the spectacle and wondered just what fantastical invention Mr. Scott was bringing on board ship this time. The last time, it had been a great wrought iron device with a ratcheted cocking arm that was fastened to the rail. It had been intended to fire off a grappling hook, somewhat in the manner of a crossbow, and had actually performed quite well, except that the pull of the crosspiece was so strong that when the grapple missed its target, the force was enough to pull the crossbow, along with the section of rail it was attached to, right off the ship. McCoy shook his head at the recollection. Scotty's mad starts were becomin legend in the fleet. He could only hope this newest contrivance would turn out to be of more value over the long run.

He gave a wave to Scotty and Chekov, who hopped out of the cart as it came to a halt. It was getting late and the light was no longer optimal for investigating the device in the waning sunlight. There would be time for that later, he was sure.

  


+++++++++

"Did you get Lieutenant Pilford settled on _Prince of Wales_ comfortably?" McCoy asked, glancing over at the surgeon's mate, who was making a noisy clatter, slamming and banging things around while stowing his medical bag into the locker in the corner of the infirmary.

Mr. Chapel was silent as he closed the locker. After jiggling the door to make sure it wasn't going to come loose in the heavy swells of the stormy waters south of Cadiz, he turned and glared at McCoy. "If by comfortably you mean, did I get him on the dinghy without dropping him in the ocean, yes. No thanks to Mr. Rand--the man couldn't lift a boarding axe if it meant his life, much less his half of a 10 stone full-grown male with his leg in a splint. A couple of extra marines had to help us lower the captain's side basket safely. And if by comfortably you mean, did I get him into their infirmary without getting thrown up on, then yes. Mr. Rand was the one who got thrown up on." He gave a pleased smirk as he smoothed his hand over his wavy blond hair and then pulled on the tails of his coat to straighten them needlessly.

"Mr. Chapel, you couldn't lift a five-year-old male without assistance. I don't think you need to be throwing any stones. I'm considering putting you on the same fortifying diet as Mr. Rand. And stop playing with your uniform; you look like a dandy boy. Get out the pill machine and help me with these once I've got the mixture done right." McCoy poured a little more glucose syrup into the mortar holding a combination of valerian and skullcap and continued working it vigorously with the pestle. "Any word from Admiral Calder on who will be replacing Lieutenant Pilford? Surely you made some good use of the trip over besides that of taking pleasure in poor Mr. Rand's discomfiture."

Less than an eyeblink later, there was an undignified squawk from Mr. Chapel and the sound of the pestle hitting the cabin wall somewhere over his shoulder. "I'm only the messenger!" shouted Chapel.

"Thunder and tarnation, but a messenger with that sort of message should be shot on sight!" grumbled McCoy. "You may as well have told me that Christmas had been canceled as have told me that the green-blooded bugbear was being given command. Now we're in for it."

Chapel reached into the herb cabinet and brought out the pill machine. "Commander Spock can't be that terrible, can he?" He set the machine down on the table and started rolling the herbal mixture into the slots.

"Only if you like knowing that you may lose a toe if you don't follow his orders exactly; he gives new meaning to 'toe the line'." McCoy replied dryly. "Let us give hope that the French decide to sally forth from Cadiz harbor soon so we may get this endeavour behind us and go home. There could still be Christmas yet." Wiping out the mortar with a cloth, he placed it back in one of the drawers of the herb cabinet. With a sheepish glance over at Chapel, he walked over to where he'd seen the pestle land after he threw it at Chapel. He rooted around on the floor for a few minutes and then, with the unintended weapon in hand, straightened up with a grunt. The pestle was also wiped off and placed in the drawer of the herb cabinet. "I'm off to the galley, Chapel. The crew has been looking a little down about the mouth. Perhaps there are still some limes left to squeeze into the grog. It would be a good thing if the resupply squadron that left for Gibraltar on the 2nd October were to get here soon."

"Aye, sir, and I'm sure you're going to have to test the grog a number of times to verify its medicinal properties." Chapel didn't look up from his pill rolling at the snort from the doctor, but he smiled when the door shut with a bang behind him.

  


+++++++++

The tripod creaked with the weight it was being asked to bear; the oblong wooden vessel with the odd metal shafts protruding from it was nearly clear of the hold. _Enterprise_ was eighth out of 11 in the weather column being led by Admiral Lord Nelson, in line between _Agamemnon_ and _Orion_ , far enough along the line to give them time to unload their remarkable burden, yet not so far back that they wouldn't have the protection of the rest of the line whilst they were in a vulnerable position. The misshapen object elicited a lot of stares and attention as Mr. Scott and Mr. Hanlon fussed with the tackle, tying off the lines to stabilize it in preparation for swinging the object over the rail.

Scotty strode over to the well in the hold and shouted down into it. "Send Mr. Morrison up now, boys. Tell him it's time for the ride of his life and that's neither horse flesh nor female!"

"Who is this Mr. Morrison, Mr. Scott? I do not believe that I have met this person. Since taking over for Lieutenant Pilford, I find that there has been a singular lack of disclosure about this mission of which even Admiral Lord Nelson did not have full knowledge." Commander Spock watched the proceedings, standing off to one side in his characteristic upright stance.

"Och, well, the Admiralty would not be wantin' to admit that they have a secret weapon, now would they, Mr. Spock? I reckon they felt all that has been needed to know is when to deploy it, which would be as soon as that misbegotten son of a Jack Tar gets his precious self up here." Pointing at the wood and metal contraption hanging from the block he said, "Yon device needs a pilot and he's just the man for the job. I've been teaching him the controls in secret for the past month."

He turned back to the well as a voice emerged from below. "Scotty, is that outlandish contraption of yours finally prepared to be launched? I trust all is in order and the _Jellyfish_ will perform in the manner you promised." A head with two-toned wildly disheveled hair poked up from below-decks and looked around for Scotty.

Unfortunately, Commander Spock saw him before he saw Spock.

"Mr. Kirk! How did you get back on board this ship? You are not supposed to be here." He turned to Scotty and stared at him accusingly. "This man is not named Morrison, he is Jim Kirk. I kicked him off this ship myself." The disapproval in Spock's voice was cold enough to freeze the water around the ship.

Scotty's mouth gaped a little. "Och, well, that would be my doing. I brought him in with the _Jellyfish_. As ordered, sir, as ordered. The Admiralty, secrets, ye know." He flapped his hands and grimaced nervously. "It was all Captain Pike's idea and, and you're not supposed to be here," he glared at Commander Spock accusingly.

Kirk finished hauling himself out of the well and stood up in front of the commander. "Commander Spock, I won't say it's a pleasure, but I should think you of all people would want to ensure the success of our mission," he gestured towards the Jellyfish.

"All of our missions are of import; we do no less than our duty and our best as Admiral Lord Nelson is confident we will. You put on airs to think you are so necessary to this operation." Spock's eyebrows drew together in disapproval, while he maintained his stiff, upright posture.

Kirk slapped his hands against the suspended vessel in disbelief. "How can you not want to see justice done? It's not just my father that's been lost and so many countless others. How can you not want revenge for your mother?" He raised his hands up in supplication.

The bystanders were starting to realize that something was brewing between the acting captain and their former first officer; the crowd became very quiet waiting for the next development.

"Do not bring that good woman's name into your vendetta, Mr. Kirk. You speak about matters of which you know nothing," Spock informed him primly.

Kirk cocked his head and looked at him closely. "Have the dispatches not caught up through the fast packets? Did Admiral Calder not hear the news and so inform you? I am so sorry, sir, to be the bearer, then, of such abysmal tidings. There is no delicate way to put this; your mother was lost at sea when _Narada_ broke the blockade at Brest and attacked _Vulcan's Forge_ on the 14th September." He reached a hand out in consolation, but before he could even make contact with the other man he found himself on the receiving end of an attack that fell on him like an avalanche, the icy demeanor of the commander breaking with a roar like the alpine snow pack under crisis.

"You lie, you vile bounder!" Spock's hands closed around the throat of his apparent nemesis, squeezing like the jaws of a vise that left Kirk breathless, his hands scrabbling at the sleeves of his coat.

The crew started to shout out encouragement to the men and one of the crew who could do maths quickly started to take odds on who would triumph, the commander heavily favoured for his being so quiet most of the time and most folks knowing the saying about still waters. The two men were fairly evenly matched, physically, but the commander had a berserker's rage going in his favour.

They were finally separated when Scotty and another man, newly come upon the fracas, were able to pry the commander's arms apart and pin them behind him. Kirk fell breathless on the deck of the ship.

"What the devil is going on here?" shouted the doctor--at the men, at Scotty, at the crowd in general. "We're headed straight for the French line and…" McCoy trailed off when he realized who the men were who had just been separated.

"Jim," he whispered in astonishment.

  


+++++++++

McCoy and Scotty watched from the rails as Kirk signaled to Commander Spock from the wheelhouse of the small, misshapen vessel he was piloting. The main body of the _Jellyfish_ was fully submerged in the ocean waters, only the shoulder-high turret in which Kirk stood protecting him from the low swells of the sea around him. There was a frothy churning at the stern of the boat that resembled nothing anyone but Scotty had seen before.

"What makes the metal shafts turn, Mr. Scott? It is not a steam device of some kind; there is no smoke, no boiler of any kind to be seen." The commander displayed a keen interest in the device, now that he had a larger stake in seeing the endeavour succeed.

"Och, well, I was in collaboration with a chemist name of Sir Humphry Davy. He is known around the scientific circles for discovering new substances and his work with galvanism and voltaic piles. With his advice and upon a little experimentation I developed two different systems for yon _Jellyfish_."

Pointing to the froth at the stern of the boat, he described how by using magnets, a wire-wound rotor, a few voltaic piles and some other odd sounding bits and bobs he could make a metal shaft rotate. He talked of James Watt and his design for a bladed screw usable to propel boats.

"It's nae very fast, nor powerful, yet it will get us short distances without the need of sails or oars. I had thought to use this in a harbor to torpedo ships at anchor under cover of darkness. The _Jellyfish_ is fully submersible, but the opportunity never came up. We'll just have to make do with what we can." Scotty still looked quite pleased with himself.

Commander Spock nodded in approval at the innovative little craft, congratulated Mr. Scott on his audacious designs and departed to take closer command of _Enterprise_ as she neared the line of battle. He had much confidence in Mr. Sulu as helmsman, but he wanted to be the one in charge when they finally came to bear on _Narada_. They would have to engage her for a long enough time for the little craft Mr. Kirk was piloting to come along side the enemy ship. Once attached by the grappling hooks stowed in the wheelhouse, Mr. Kirk would have to abandon his craft and swim back to _Enterprise_. A daring and foolhardy venture, but the young man seemed hell-bent on being the one to risk it all. He had to admire that--even if he found Mr. Kirk driven more by emotion than pragmatism, a course he normally found distasteful--because it got results. And, oh, did he want to see those results paid out.

  


+++++++++

"Has anyone seen him, yet?" McCoy asked Scotty as he helped drag another gunner into the dispensary and laid him on the table. The doctor started right to work, cutting fabric away from the mangled leg wound in front of him.

Scotty shook his head. "Nay, the _Jellyfish_ was lost to sight once _Victory_ locked masts with _Narada_ some thirty minutes past. Could be Mr. Kirk was taken up by either of the ships. Best hope it be _Victory_ that fished him out. Even better that they can get themselves disentangled before the timing device on yon torpedo reaches its countdown mark."

McCoy looked up in alarm. "There's a timing mechanism? What exactly is that blasted thing supposed to do?"

"Och, what do ye suppose it's to do, you blind croaker? It's a bomb! A great, bloody, big bomb." Scotty grinned gleefully and waved his arms to show the magnitude of the explosion.

McCoy paled. "Chapel!" he barked. "Take over for me here. I've washed his leg off with chloride of mercury. Once you've stitched the wound up, put some of the salve from the green bottle on it before you apply the bandage."

"Aye, sir." Chapel took up the instruments that McCoy had set down on the table.

"I'll be on the quarterdeck until further notice. If you need help, get Rand to assist. He's got a good head on his shoulders, even if he'll drop every patient you try to move to a hammock unassisted. Get one of the marines to help you out when you need someone for heavy lifting." McCoy shrugged into his coat and turned toward Scotty.

"This had better work; more so than that overly powered grappling hook rig of yours that took Captain Archer's beagle overboard with it when the blighted animal got caught in its anchor sheet. I don't want this bomb of yours to decide it wants to sink Admiral Nelson instead. We'd all be court martialed, then, and not just sent to help convert captured French ships into prison hulks, like they had you help convert the _Egyptienne_ into the _Antigua_ last year." The doctor hurried down the passageway, lurching a little as the ship changed its course to whatever purpose.

Scotty scoffed, "Nah, this be a precision instrument, man! I calibrated it to within 10 seconds over the period of a day. It will blow at the time to which it's set, I guarantee." He hurried in front of the doctor, reaching the ladder before him he pulled himself up quickly. McCoy followed just as rapidly, his heart racing at the thought that Jim might not get clear of whatever blast was going to result from Scotty's great panjandrum.

Once clear of the ladder well, they both rushed over to the quarterdeck where Commander Spock was standing, calmly issuing orders to head up into the wind to present the starboard side guns for the next broadside attack against _Intrépide_.

"What news of _Narada_ , sir?" McCoy asked breathlessly.

The captain looked down at him in disapprobation. "Doctor, we are all doing our best, engaging with the enemy as we can as the situation presents. You would do best to be present in your surgery where you can do the most good."

"Good gad, man! My best friend is possibly going to blow himself up, along with half the French and British fleets, if Mr. Scott has the right of it. I can do no less than to ensure he gets safely out of harm's way and if that means standing here and brangling with you for the rest of the day until I get the answers I want, I will do it!" roared McCoy.

With a brief straightening of his shoulders as if to shake off an unwanted load, Spock turned and pointed to where _Victory_ was slowly pulling away from _Narada_. The Spanish ship's main mast lying in a tangle over the foredeck; it was listing heavily to one side. "No doubt Captain Nero will be surrendering soon. His ship is dead in the water and he will need aid. We shall watch for his signal flags asking for succor."

"God rot the bastard," spit out McCoy. "May he be blown up with his ship."

Scotty pulled at McCoy's arm in excitement and pointed toward the disabled vessel. "Look'ee!"

They could just make out a dinghy pulling up beside _Narada_ , a tousle-headed figure with legs braced wide standing up carefully to shout at someone leaning over the rail. Arms and hands gesticulated at one another in a heated pantomime to the watchers. After a few more excited exchanges, the standing figure in the dinghy straightened completely, made a very terse reply and turned his back on the other, ending the conversation. After the figure sat down carefully, the dinghy started to pull slowly away.

McCoy smiled in delight. "Well, I guess we know what Nero said—"

He was interrupted by a gigantic fountain of water rising into the air where the _Narada_ had been, followed by a thundering roar that seemed to tear his speech right out of his lungs as it whipped past the scattered ships of both fleets. The water flume seemed to rise higher than any obelisk erected to dead kings he had ever been witness to in foreign lands. As the water fell back, the swell it created rocked the ship even more than the normal swells of the ocean around them. Pieces of wood and other material pelted them from above until, concerned that larger bits might actually prove damaging, they all sought cover.

"Scotty, just what was in that thing?" asked McCoy.

The carpenter beamed. "Me own invention. 'Tis made primarily of two chemical components: potassium and red phosphorus. I call it Red Matter."

"Well, what matters is that it does seem to have done the trick." He looked quite pleased with the outcome until, with an anguished grimace he glanced at Scotty and whispered, "What about Jim, do you think he was far enough--?" His voice trailed off in horrified silence.

Scotty looked slightly ill. "Do you pray?"

  


+++++++++

"Do you suppose he would have minded being submerged in a barrel of brandy?" Scotty asked McCoy as they stood at the stern of _Enterprise_ watching them cut the cask away from the mast of _Victory_. It had taken them until the 4th November to tow her into Gibraltar for repairs.

"I think it should be the best send-off one could hope for, although a shameful waste of good brandy. It's not like he can really appreciate it and he very much would have." McCoy gave a moue of distress at the thought of all that brandy being used for something so much more plebian than drinking.

Scotty patted McCoy on the shoulder. "Och, well, at least we've still got our grog and when we get back to England; you can indulge in all the finer spirits at leisure. Now, why don't you get a tot of that watered-down swill and we'll take it to wee Jimmy. I'm sure he could use a respite from the ache in his leg."

McCoy stiffened at the reminder. It was touch and go whether Jim would keep his leg. The compound fracture was still suppurating and they had been fighting an infection that didn't seem to want to respond to his salves and nostrums. He'd lost many a patient to wound infection, but this time it might literally kill him to lose Jim. It made it hard to be around him, for fear that he would be stricken down himself if he had to be the one to sew Jim into a shroud and see him consigned to the deep. He'd consigned most of Jim's care to Chapel, who seemed to have developed a puzzling, but mild, infatuation with the injured man. "You go on and do that. I'm sure Jim would welcome the company."

Scotty gave him a disapproving glare. "And what of your company? He asks after ye, ye know. 'T wouldn't hurt ye to spend a little more time with him, let him know he did the right thing."

McCoy turned his back on him and gripped the rail tightly, his knuckles white from the force. "I can't right now. I just can't."

"Tchah," exclaimed Scotty in disgust. "I'll be down in the infirmary if you change your mind. We'll be having a right good natter of it wi'out ye." He started to leave, but then turned back to add, "I'll still be making that fancy container ye commissioned of me, but I dinna understand why the fuss if you are that mad at the man!" With that, he turned away and headed for the ladder down into the bowels of the ship.

McCoy stood there at the rail, his jaw knotted and tense, fighting back tears. He would go when he knew he wouldn't do anything stupid, like either smother his friend for scaring him so deeply or start laying kisses all over the other man's face that would lead to charges being laid if the people around them saw. He drew in a shaky breath and wished Scotty and Jim a pleasant time with the grog whilst he watched the cask containing Admiral Nelson's body be lowered over the side to be taken to the undertaker.

  


+++++++++

Laying his crutches down on the floor next to him, Jim settled slowly back into the chair with a sigh of relief. Sweat beaded his forehead, belying the cheeks pinkened by the chilly air outside. After unbuttoning his coat, he swept his hat off, placing it on the table next to him with his gloves.

"Och, Jimmy-me-lad, what are ye doin' here?" Gaille bustled over from behind the bar with a cloth in her hand. "Here, tidy yerself a little."

Jim took the cloth gratefully and swiped it across his forehead, then over the back of his neck. "I wanted to come pick up Bones's Christmas present. Has it been delivered yet?" He smiled up at Gaille sweetly.

She stood with her arms akimbo and frowned at him. "I told ye, I'd drop it by after my work was over. You know you're not supposed to be up and about on that leg until the doctor clears you."

Jim scoffed. "Bones is an old woman. It's been eight weeks. Even if I'm not off crutches yet, I'm not a complete invalid." He looked down and plucked at the fabric of his pants. "Besides, I didn't want Bones there when you delivered his present. That's the point of presents, you know, that you don't know what they are before you open them," he smirked at her.

"But, look at ye! Ye look worn to a nub and it's only three blocks from your lodgings. Och, lad, ye could have collapsed on the way here and what would the poor doctor think when he found ye missing or in worse condition than ye are now?" Gaille shook her head in disgust. "I'll warm ye some cider and a bit of beef. You sit right there." After another disapproving glare in his direction, she marched into the back where he could hear her hectoring the barkeep.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of the hearth along the wall. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to get here, more than he'd counted on. Moving around his lodgings wasn't the same as a quarter of a mile walk on crutches in the cold December air. The ground had been more slippery than he counted on and maintaining his balance had taken much out of the muscles of his back and good leg. Now, he'd probably have to beg the assistance of the pot boy to help him back to the lodgings and with his luck, Bones would be there to read him the riot act for taking foolish chances.

Jim startled out of a light doze when Gaille arrived to set down a steaming plate of beef and a mug of cider that smelled of nose-tingling spices. She also set down a small package wrapped up in paper and string. "Put put this in your pocket, right now. John will walk home wi' ye to make sure no one tries to rob ye. Carries a great cudgel in his pocket, he does, makes men, and some women, run screaming." She winked at him and gave a pat to his shoulder. "Eat up and call me when you're ready to leave."

"You're a treasure, Gaille. If I was more inclined that way, I'd ask you to marry me." He grinned over the top of the mug and took a draught of the cider, relishing the play of spices over his tongue.

"Go on wi' ye. The good doctor would be heartbroken were ye to tarry under my skirts more than the time it takes to have a wee tumble or two." She pushed on the side of his head with her hand and he ducked it under with a wry laugh.

"I think you overestimate the depth of his regard for me. He was quite overset with me before the Battle of Trafalgar and even now he rarely says more than two words in a row to me other than to tell me to quit whinging when he changes my bandages." He set the mug down with a clatter. His face took on a pinched look and he scrubbed at his cheeks with his fists before he brought them down in front of his mouth. "I'm still a dishonourably mustered out sailor who must needs find a way to fend for myself and prove to him that I am worthy of his regard."

Gaille reached over and pulled his hands down, holding them in her own. "Jimmy, the man loves you. That isn't going to stop just because you had a wee falling out wi' each other."

He looked into her eyes and smiled sadly. "I hope you're right. That's why I got this present for him, so he would know for once and all just how deep my regard for him goes. My regard, no, my love. Call it what it is, even if most would find in unnatural."

"I call it beautiful." Gaille patted Jim's cheek, then got up from where she'd sat next to him on the arm of his chair. "Eat up, your dinner is cooling and I want John back before this place starts getting too busy and I have to bring out the Brown Bess to keep order by myself." With a last smile over her shoulder, she flounced back over to the bar.

Jim looked at his dinner, wondering if he'd be able to force the food down past the lump in his throat. Picking up his fork, he resolved to eat as quickly as he could so he could get back to his lodgings in time to hide the gift where Bones wouldn't see it.

  


+++++++++

McCoy stared at the package he had found stashed at the back of the top shelf of the wardrobe whilst looking for the wool scarf he thought he'd tucked away there. The package was wrapped in blue paper and stamped with the initials C&W, those of a well-known jeweller, Catchpole and Williams, on Oxford Street. Undoubtedly, it was a Christmas present, but he was otherwise at a loss to explain it; the only person who could have put it there was Jim and where he got the money to buy jewellery was a definite conundrum. The thought that Jim was squandering funds on extravagant gifts irked him. Echoes of that final confrontation between them before _Enterprise_ sailed in September made bile rise to the back of his throat. What had Jim done to get the money for this?

He turned to look at where the other man was napping, his leg propped up on pillows while he rested against the headboard of the bed. He was still easily exhausted, which made the package even more of a puzzle. When and how had Jim arranged its purchase? Carrying the package with him, he moved over and sat on the side of the bed. He felt he was owed an explanation before he made any decision on his actions. Before he woke Jim, though, he just looked at him: at the hair, which was growing out to its former golden length; at the full lips, chapped and bitten; the cheeks, much thinner now from lack of good appetite. Still the same beautiful, impetuous, brave, exasperating man he'd known for nine years. He would never be quit of him, no matter their physical proximity. Like a cat, though, his curiosity was about to make a lack of proximity a distinct possibility. Tomorrow was Christmas Day; what harm could it do to wait one more day? He looked back down at the package in his hand, turning it over a couple more times in indecision.

Before he could get back up to return the package to the wardrobe, a hand reached out and took it from him. "Bones," there was reproach in Jim's voice, "this was meant to be for tomorrow. What would you with it today?"

"I thought I had some questions about it, but I don't. A gift isn't meant to be questioned, is it, it just is." Bones laid his hand against Jim's cheek and rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone. "I wasn't expecting anything, you know, since I know you are without funds. And I need to show you I trust you. I've been far too withholding and downright punitive since we returned from Gibraltar."

Jim turned his head and placed a sweet kiss in the palm of Bones's hand. "It's so close to Christmas, why don't you go ahead and open it now that you know about it? I don't mind if you haven't anything for me. This is my gift to you; a measure of my regard, so you'll never doubt how important you are in my life, old man."

"I do have something for you, you nincompoop. It's just hidden where you'd never think to look for it." With a smile he reached under the bed and pulled out a large, square package wrapped in brown paper.

Jim's eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's an awful large package. I would have thought you'd have tried to find a better hiding place."

"And how often do you bend over, with your leg still stiff and on crutches?" Bones eyes described a curve that ran from one corner of the room to the other; a look that said Jim was not just a nincompoop, but a numskull and a halfwit, to boot.

"Point. So, who's to go first?" Jim looked at Bones, his hands running over the package in his lap, fingers pulling eagerly at string and the loose edges of the paper.

"You're such a hound, you go first." Bones sat looking at Jim expectantly. Jim's fingers flew over the package, ripping and tearing at the paper and the knot of the string. When he had it uncovered at last, he just sat and stared at it. The wood gleamed in the low light of the lamp, the inlays all fitting smoothly into one another: black, red, green, white, yellow, an intricate pattern that formed a picture of _Kelvin_ , his father's ship. He opened the box, tentatively, and found it empty, as he expected. This was a gift meant for a king. The woods were ebony, mahogany, ash, rosewood and olive; they all would have cost a pretty penny. He knew, with the greatest irony, exactly what was meant to reside in the precious jewel of a container and he couldn't look away from it without giving himself away.

Bones couldn't make out the expression on Jim's face; it had gone almost totally blank once he'd gotten a good look at the case. He thought he'd be enraptured by having such a luxurious resting place for his father's sextant, something he could take pride in and show off to others. Instead, he seemed almost melancholy and he wasn't sure what had brought it on.

"Why don't you tell me where you've put your sextant so I can get it and you can transfer it over from its present case to this one?

"That can wait a few more minutes, Bones. Open your present; I feel like I've been waiting forever to give this to you." Jim tried to speak in an even tone, although he was afraid that the lump in his throat was making him sound a little pitched and childish. He closed the sextant case and stroked his hands over it, cherishing it while he could.

Bones gave him a skeptical look, like he didn't quite believe in this subdued version of his friend. Still, he carefully undid the packaging on his gift and found wrapped in a piece of silk a gold chain with T-anchor and a fob that swung from a shorter chain. The fob itself was a sizable cabochon garnet with gold wire laid over it in an intricate Celtic knot. He held it up so it could gleam in the lamplight.

"It's beautiful, Jim; a very handsome addition to a pocket watch. Did you know garnet was Joanna's birthstone?" He fingered the jewel lovingly, a look of yearning on his face. Slowly, his hands lowered until the chain and fob rested in his lap, while he stroked the chain thoughtfully. "This is very lovely and very practical. Only…" He tapered off and looked at Jim, his eyes shadowed and sad.

"Earlier, I was going to be all righteous with you over where you got funds to get me a Christmas present, but I think I understand, now." Bones reached out and grasped one of Jim's hands with his. He looked into Jim's eyes and asked him, "You sold the sextant, didn't you?"

Jim bit his lower lip and nodded. "I needed you to know you are the most important person in my life and this was the best way I knew to do it. I know you've got Joanna, when Jocelyn allows, and that you have only some small time for me, but I'll take whatever of it I can get. Just, you need to know," he choked out, "how much your regard does matter to me and that I cherish it. I do, Bones."

Bones reached up and brushed the hair off Jim's forehead, running his hand over his head to cup the back of his neck. Bringing his face towards Jim's he whispered, "I know, my beautiful boy, I know." He closed the distance between their mouths and touched his lips softly to the other man's. They clung together softly for a moment before Jim's mouth opened just slightly and they touched the tips of their tongues together, testing each other. Without much delay, their tongues became more deeply entwined, caressing the insides of each other's mouths, tasting deeply of their essences. At last, with a gasp, the kiss was broken and they rested their foreheads together.

There was silence for a moment, before Jim reached over to play with the fob chain lying in Bones's lap. "Why don't you put this on, so I can see how well they go together and what a dandy it will make you?"

Bones reared his head back and forced out a wry chuckle. "Well, that's the rub. Great minds must think alike as I sold my watch to buy the wood for your case. We make a pretty pair, don't we?"

Jim looked distressed. "But, what about the miniature of Joanna that you kept in the watch lid?"

"That's safe. I took it out and Scotty's to make a small frame for me. He had some mahogany left over from crafting your case he thought he could shape into something suitable." Bones kept his hand on the back of Jim's neck, stroking his thumb under his ear to help him remain calm.

"And you must know, you daft ninny, that you command all my time and as much of my love as remains after Joanna, which is not inconsiderable as love has no boundaries or dimension, mass or volume. Haven't nine years of having me clean up after you, berate you, chivvy you into common sense and share everything bar our internal organs shown you just how much I love you?" Bones drew his other hand down the side of Jim's face, his fingers whispering over his lips in a tender caress.

Jim nipped at Bones's fingers for a moment and then sighed. "I've never been completely sure; it always seemed to me that I received so much more benefit out of our friendship than you. But, if you say it, then I am willing to believe that you love me, although, a thorough demonstration of your affections would not go amiss tonight at all." He glanced at Bones slyly, a smirk passing across his mouth before he went back to placing small kisses on the tips of Bones's fingers.

"Young jackanapes," Bones complained. But still, he leaned in and replaced his fingers with his lips for a very brief kiss. "Well, then, let us set these extravagant gifts aside, where we can admire them later, and retire to our bed. I will show you what I may, whilst your leg is still healing." He stood up, gathering the presents to him and took them over to the table. Setting them down, he gave Jim a heated glance and started removing his clothes, folding them up and placing them in the wardrobe as he went.

Jim bounced on the bed a little in excitement, then immediately set to moving the extra pillows around to make room for Bones s as he slid down the headboard to spread himself out over the bed. This demonstration would be as complete as he could make it to convince Bones that, despite his bad leg, he had every intention of reciprocating to the best of his abilities, vast as they normally were. He shivered a little in anticipation when the lamp was snuffed and Bones slipped under the covers with him, naked skin moulding to his nightshirt. Bones's hands skimmed under the thin cotton, pushing the hem up and over Jim's head and off his arms.

"Let me do all the work, pup, whilst you lie back and think of how England expects every man to do his duty," Bones commanded with a chuckle, his hands searching out those places on Jim he knew drove him to madness.

"But, you know I've never been very good at following orders and I never fall into conventional thinking." Jim said, retaliating with words and seeking hands over Bones chest and torso.

After that, words became fewer, replaced by singular sounds of encouragement and praise as they sought out a mutual physical satisfaction in ways acceptable to the both.

  


+++++++++

Jim was stared at his porridge without seeing it. Last night was the first time he'd truly realized and paid attention to the sentiment behind Bones's touch. It left him feeling a little lightheaded; he kept wanting to smile in giddy delight. But he still didn't know what or how he was to find gainful employment with his bad leg and worse service record. The thought of being separataed from Bones for months or years at a time left him sick at heart. The problematic Christmas present sitting on the table next to him was a glaring reminder of decisions based on impulse and not well thought out. The seesaw of conflicting emotions inside him left him nauseated. He dipped the spoon into the porridge once more, then hung it suspended to let the gluey mass slowly slip off it and back into the bowl. Perhaps he could take the fob chain back and have the garnet reset into a ring instead. Bones's hand would look quite handsome with a pinky ring on those long, clever fingers that had stroked him to such fevered heights in the night.

His reverie was interrupted by a banging at the the door. He was about to tell the ham-fisted intruder to lay off when he heard Bones in the corridor outside accosting the visitor.

"What are you two doing out on such an exceptional day? Shouldn't you be at home with family, celebrating the season with your loved ones?" Bones opened the door and announced to Jim, "We have guests, cub. I hope you're decent for company."

Jim snorted. "Decent is all I'm allowed to be around you, gaffer. Bring them in; I'm done with breaking my fast." He pushed the bowl of porridge away from him, the congealed mass looking quite unappetizing.

He was astounded to see Captain Pike and Commander Spock enter the room ahead of Bones. Jim made an aborted attempt to stand up to greet his former commanding officer, but Pike put his hand out in a gesture to forestall him.

"Sit, sit! At ease, Kirk. I've come with the very best news at my earliest convenience. I reckon you two could use some news to bring a little more cheer to the season." Pike smiled at Kirk and McCoy, then looked around for another chair to be seated in. Seeing one on the other side of the table, he pulled it out and sat down across from Kirk, Commander Spock taking up position to his right, McCoy standing with his hand on the back of Kirk's chair.

"You may not be aware of this, but Admiral Calder's court martial was held on the 23rd December. He was acquitted of charges of cowardice and disaffection by the court, although he still received a reprimand for not pressing the engagement to full effect. In light of this, I requested of Commander Spock that he notify the Admiralty that he wished to rescind the charges he brought against you after the Battle of Cape Finisterre, for if anyone pressed that engagement, it was you." Captain Pike directed his gaze to where Commander Spock was standing, hands clasped behind his back with his head lifted and face quite stoic in appearance.

"The captain is indeed correct," Spock said. "It would be remiss of me to press charges against you when you obviously understood much better than I the tenor of the public in regards to our opposition to Napoleon. I find I still have much to learn about when and under what conditions battle is best joined and whether breaking off an engagement is required as a matter of sense or a matter of spirit." He bent his head slightly to acknowledge Kirk's more masterful handling of the engagement at Cape Finisterre. "I do sincerely apologize for being responsible for your distressful circumstances; I have made sure the Admiralty understands you were to be commended for your actions last July."

Captain Pike rubbed his hands in glee. "He is quite eloquent in his apologies, isn't he? But the best news is yet to come. My boy, how would you feel about taking on post-captain and command of _Enterprise_?"

Kirk gaped at him in disbelief. His face went from confused, to stunned, to joyous before he raised his clenched fists into the air and shouted, "Huzzah!" McCoy swatted at his hands to get them out of his face. Kirk brought his hands down, then ran them through his hair and smoothed it down, taking a calming breath before looking at Captain Pike and then Commander Spock. "But, good sirs, where does that leave you?"

Pike grinned and pointed to something that Kirk should have noticed earlier, but in his excitement had managed to overlook: there on Pike's shoulders were the epaulets of an admiral, along with additional gold braid on the cuffs of his coat. "Admiral Calder has taken half pay in light of the court martial findings, which left his squadron short their admiral. With Admiral Lord Nelson's death, the Admiralty was left scrambling to fill vacancies. I've been promoted and offered _Prince of Wales_ and I'm taking Commander Spock as my First Officer once more."

"Well, congratulations to you both, admiral, commander. I wish you the best of luck in this new endeavor. Do you but know, though, when I must report to _Enterprise_ to take command of her?" He looked a little worried, rubbing at his leg in concern. McCoy laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Not for another four weeks, lad. And with McCoy as your personal physician, I'm sure you'll be up to the task by then. In the meantime, I've authorized a bank draft for you of all the back pay you're entitled to, plus the 10 percent of the prize money that has been paid out from Trafalgar. I'm sure you'll find a more than adequate use for it. Perhaps in new uniforms." With that, he stood up, reached across the table to shake Kirk's hand and, motioning for Mr. Spock to proceed him, turned toward the door with a final smile and made a gesture toward his forehead, something that resembled a salute but might have been a wave.

McCoy saw them to the door and, when it closed behind him, turned to look at Jim. What he saw in his face drew him quickly back to where Jim was sitting. He knelt down in front of him and took his hand within his own. "You deserve this, you know. I've always had faith in you, young'un."

Jim looked at him somberly for a moment. "Admiral Nelson had a saying, Bones: 'First gain the victory and make the best use of it you can'. I promise you, I will." With that he broke into a huge grin. He leaned into Bones and, laying his lips on the other man's, proceeded to show him just how best he was going to use them.

  


++++fin++++

  
A/N-2: This was written in response to the prompt #45) Something based on The Gift of the Magi, where they each sacrifice something to get the perfect present for each other. I hope the prompter enjoyed my gift.

  



End file.
